ANECDOTE OF GEN. PEYTON OF KENTUCKY.
It was customary, thirty years ago, for the ladies to attend political pic-nics, or "barbacues" as they are called "out west." This was particularly the case in the exciting contest between General Leslie Coombs and John C. Breckenridge for a seat in Congress in 1840. Out of this affair grew the authentic story of the beautiful widow—called the "gem of the prairies." Not far from the Elkhorn river lived the pretty little widow; Mrs. Fauntleroy, whose nearest neighbor was Major-General John Peyton. The gallant general looked upon the widow very much as he did upon his thorough-bred horse, Powhatan. She was the finest woman and Powhatan the finest horse in the "Blue grass" district. Mrs. F. had mourned the loss of her husband more than twelve months; while the General—who was punctilious as to etiquette—waited patiently for the time to elapse in order to propose: The widow kept, with a woman's art, her lover at bay. He with her attended a pic-nic and on their return he declared his confidence in the success of the Whigs. The widow was equally confident of the success of the Democrats and offered to wager her palfrey "Gipsy" against Powhatan—the General accepted the wager and said, "it should be Powhatan or anything else she preferred on his estate." They had now reached the river (Elkhorn) and were about to ford it, when they were overtaken by the General's only son and heir John Peyton, an athletic and spirited young Kentuckian of 24 years. The party struck into the water. The east bank was steep and slippery, and as the horses were clambering up, the girth of Mrs. F.'s saddle broke, and the lady and saddle fell back into the stream, while the unencumbered horse mounted the bank with the swiftness of an arrow. In an instant John Peyton leaped from his horse into the stream and seizing the floating lady bore his lovely burden to the shore. The frightened lady recovering her self-possession requested the General to secure her horse, which was making off rapidly. The General disappeared and soon returned with the animal, finding his son and the widow in fine spirits and very merry over the adventure. She was soon mounted again and proceeded home with the General, while John struck across the meadows for his father's mansion. On reaching the Fauntleroy seat, General Peyton was easily persuaded to remain to dinner, after which the widow entertained him with some of her sweetest music. When he bid her adieu that night, his ponderous frame thrilling with the electrical touch of her hand, he inwardly felt that she was the most perfect woman and sweetest songstress in all Kentucky.
That night in his dreams the little widow was so often repeated that he resolved to propose on the next meeting. Business called him to Louisville the next day and detained him until after the election which resulted in the defeat of the Whigs and in the election of Breckenridge. General Peyton was both astonished and indignant.
"Mr. Clay's district has disgraced itself," was almost his first remark to his neighbor, Colonel Beaufort.
To his son John, he communicated his intention of bringing Mrs. F. to adorn his establishment.
"Sir, she is" said he, "the finest woman in Kentucky—the pride of the 'blue grass' district. I hope you will, notwithstanding her youth, treat her with deference and respect, and yield her the love she has a right to expect from my son!"
John, with a quiet but knowing smile, assured the General of his determination to accord affectionate respect to whomever he might choose for a wife. The old soldier was delighted and ordered Powhatan to be led to Mrs. Fauntleroy's. "Sir," said he to his son, "the Whig party has disgraced itself and Mr. Clay's district, and I must part with my favorite horse Powhatan, who has no equal in the Commonwealth. I have just ordered him to be delivered to Mrs. F. and am about to call, will you accompany me?" The son consented, and when they arrived they found Mrs. F. and two lady friends admiring the splendid animal.
"Madam," said the General, addressing the pretty widow, "I have come to pay the wager I have lost—Powhatan is yours."
"But General," interposed the lady, "I believe the wager was conditional. It was the horse or anything else I might prefer on your estate, was it not?"
"Right you are madam," said the General, "but I can never allow you to select an inferior animal, and I have none that approaches Powhatan."
"You have a very superior biped on your estate, General," replied the blushing widow, "your son, John, whom I have already promised to accept instead of Powhatan."
The astonished General, defeated for the first time, summoned his fortitude, and after recovering from the stunning effect of the widow's speech, rose and in his blandest manner bade the party adieu. To his son he said—"Sir, you will remain and do your duty."
The General never entirely forgave his daughter-in-law her practical joke. In after years he used to say, "Lilley is the finest woman in Kentucky, but she always lacked taste."